


Montanhas e mares

by versions91



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Brazil Arc, Day 1: Beach, F/F, Fem!Hinata, Fem!Kageyama, Femslash, HQ Volleygirls, Manga Spoilers, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Timeskip, Rule 63, World Stage Promise, fem!kagehina - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-10 03:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21465922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versions91/pseuds/versions91
Summary: Only later, while she's zipping through traffic by bike, her phone buzzes again.are there clementines in Rio?     7:25 a.m.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75
Collections: Haikyuu!! Volleygirls





	1. Rio

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Brazil arc reunion fic running up to the Rio 2016 Olympics, because Hinata had just one glance of Kageyama on TV in canon and THAT'S IT?! (yells in pining)

There are so many things Hinata wants to tell her, the way they used to after school and before practice, but it has been some time now — some time since graduation, since they stood beside each other, breathed together, moved in step — yet… Her mind travels, a thread reaching across miles and miles with the speed of light: _look at me now, Kageyama_.

### Março

The sands gives, shifts under her soles, and grates on her skin everywhere when she falls. Flamengo Beach is an entirely different playing ground. It’s really hot, for one. And sea breezes, which bring reprieve from the stifling humidity, introduces a rogue element to where the ball falls.

"I bet it will drive Kageyama crazy.” Upon discovering the wind, she texts Kageyama about it over break.

Only later, when they wrap up training in the morning, she remembers the time difference. Kageyama might have slept after a long day of training, if she’s in Tokyo. (Is she?)

She snaps a photo of the nets with Sugarloaf Mountain behind, then pitter-patters down the beach for a photo of the water. When she’s done, she presses the side button twice and stares.

“Hinata, join us for lunch?” Katou-sensei appears behind her with a terry towel in hand.

“Sim!”

She puts her phone away and moves along, before the waves rush ashore from the deep, foaming, just short of catching her ankles.

* * *

At night she serves tables at Copacabana, in a sushi restaurant owned by Katou-sensei’s uncle. The dim, cozy establishment with Japanese menus and Japanese-Brazilian co-workers provides an enclave of familiarity, but they don’t serve pork katsudons here. She’s super grateful nonetheless, to find a stable part-time job so soon after landing.

After a series of near disasters involving three drunk British men, too many plates and very little language comprehension, she survives and retires to the backroom at 2 a.m. to a dozen group texts and three replies from Kagebaka Tobio.

| look this is where I play  
wow 6:40 p.m.

| the wind messes up where the ball goes!! blaaargh  
hmmm, you have to 6:40 p.m.

use the wind 6:41 p.m.

Of course Kageyama would say that. Hinata pouts and taps.

I know that! 2:01 a.m.  
wait until you've tried beach yourself 2:01 a.m.  
I'm learning how to set 2:02 a.m.

finally you’ll know how it feels to set to total idiots 2:01 a.m.

😤 2:02 a.m.

At the sound of sliding doors, Hinata jumps and wipes a grin away with the back of her hand.

### Abril

The praias: the energy at the Copa is thrilling, but Leme at its furthest end has a quiet charm which sticks.

In early mornings, the white sands at Leme is speckless, inviting. The water closes in and crashes on the beach in waves of greens, but very far, where it meets the sky, the Atlantic ocean is so deep and blue. Sometimes, Hinata would stand in the stretch of wet sands curving around the bay to feel the ocean.

Sometimes, Paula would come over when Hinata’s day shift ends, and they would soak in the sunset, slurping on sucos.

Before they leave, a warm and happy feeling compels her, so she presses record.

* * *

| (sound clip, 0:05)  
is this from Youtube 6:55 p.m.

noo i recorded it you idiot! 6:57 p.m.  
to show you the sound of Rio 6:58 p.m.  
which you would hear if you’re coming 6:58 p.m.  
ganbare at qualifiers...!!! 6:59 p.m.

boke I was joking 0:15 a.m.  
I thought you recorded a voice msg like my mother 0:15 a.m.  
I don’t play until June, but thanks 0:19 a.m.

### Maio

Coming to Rio is a resistance exercise: every day she has to keep pushing, pushing through, powered by belief and belief only. There is no other option than to be patient, however difficult it is.

Three months in, training is still tough, but she’s getting used to the beach. She still barely speaks a lick of Portuguese, but can navigate some parts of Rio. Her training mates and colleagues are nice, even though she doesn’t really know them: they’re friendly and not more. She reminds herself of being a first-year at Karasuno, when Tsukishima always glanced from afar coolly, and Kageyama plainly looked down at her. Maybe people are like frozen fish, and it takes time to defrost.

_We didn’t mix in the beginning, huh?_

She flicks through years of photos taken in team dinners, training camps, graduations — first Daichi, Suga, and Asahi's, and then Noya, Tanaka and Ennoshita's — funny ones with Asahi lifting Noya up by the waist and both of them yelling in excitement, Ennoshita mildly embarrassed she could barely hold all her academic prizes with both hands, Shimizu-kun giving Tanaka a surprise princess hug — of Tsukishima's expression after being pranked by the most daring kouhais led by Yukimura, of the slopes of Heartbreak Hill, then sakura blossoms along Shakujii River with Kenma, and in between those days, a melting watermelon icicle next to her bike, with Kageyama walking in front, of frail yellow leaves dangling above them, almost brushing Kageyama’s hair, half of a meat bun when it’s still hot, and ...

There is a swooshing and swashing inside her, it knocks and knocks, and the night is deceptive, transporting, like she could be in any place, even impossible ones. Hinata types, reverses, but the words just aren't enough. She closes the messenger and turns off the light.

* * *

She blinks open her eyes slowly and flaps one arm over to her bedstand: an unread “hey” from Kageyama to start the day.

whats up 6:37 a.m.

nth 6:49 a.m.

Hinata hates the feeling that she could be blind to something really obvious on Kageyama’s face now.

oookay 6:50 a.m.

dont you have practice 6:51 a.m.

yes m running late orz ttyl 6:52 a.m.

Only later, while she's zipping through traffic by bike, her phone buzzes again.

are there clementines in Rio? 7:25 a.m.

* * *

When the morning’s over, Hinata reads the question aloud to her local peers.

“There are tangerines.” Adria offers, her tall ponytail swinging with a head tilt. “Are you craving something?”

“No! I’m alright, thanks.” Hinata frowns. She didn’t think Kageyama likes citrus fruits, since she's a wuss that doesn’t like sour.

“São Paolo has a really big Japantown, but it’s a long way.” Katou-san pauses gently. “It’s really normal to miss home.”

“I’m fine!” Hinata squeaks. “I… miss my friends, that’s all.”

* * *

my friend said there are tangerines 12:05 p.m.  
do you even know the difference 👀 12:07 p.m.

I do 12:08 p.m.  
does your friend play beach volleyball? 12:08 p.m.

yeah we train together 12:18 p.m.  
(photo) she says hi! 12:21 p.m.

hi 12:25 p.m.

you didn’t send a photo back! so awkward 1:10 p.m.

they don’t know me, does it matter 7:35 p.m.

_It doesn't, but I want to see you._ Hinata thinks. _It does, because I want to see you._

rude! Kageyama 7:40 p.m.

### Junho

She lost her wallet on Avenida Atlântica to a boy her size, when the sky barely darkened. She doesn’t tremble until she reaches the flat. She cries in anger and relief, because she did what people said you should do, tossed it over and bolted, lost nothing else. But she feels stupid, and lets out a loud, angry wail to her chest, with her knees tucked in close and tight.

Paula knocks, pushes the door gingerly, and peeks through the crack. “Shouyou?”

“Sorry, I’m ok, I just, um. I need to.” Hinata starts and stops. After wiping her face roughly, she smacks both hands down by her side. “I’m going to play some volleyball.”

She bikes to Flamengo, pushing down the peddles harder than usual. She's not going to stay down.

There, she finds— or rather, _Daiousama_ finds her. She wouldn’t have expected it in a million years.

* * *

Seeing Oikawa in Rio has been surreal, and nice in an unexpected way too. Oikawa’s impressive as ever (Kageyama's the one with a weird complex about their history), and Hinata feels less alone, now that she knows someone that great is fighting far from home too.

At dinner, she plucks up the courage to ask Oikawa how she deals with all of it. As expected, the setter brushes off the idea of hardship initially and talks about support from her team, though Hinata doesn't miss a flicker in the brown eyes now contemplative.

"And, well, sometimes you really are alone. It does suck a little, does it not." Oikawa's singsong softens, but she finds a smile before continuing. "Iwa-chan just won't stop bothering me though!"

"What do you and Iwaizumi-san talk about?" The question escapes before Hinata thinks twice, and Oikawa's smile sharpens with meaning.

"Well..."

_Oh, maybe they..._ Hinata knows there's nothing to be embarrassed about, Oikawa is probably alluding to something sexy like... phone... phone sex, or something like that...

"You're so easily flustered! It's not fun if it's easy. Please have some cold water." Oikawa chuckles and goes on. "I text Iwa-chan about all sorts of things! Funny or sad. Keeping them in the loop of what's happening is important."

Oikawa pauses and starts. "Wow, I didn't think I would be giving you actual advice. You look confused. Earth to Chibi-chan?"

Hinata shuts her mouth, which has been hanging open in awe. This is such good advice, but she doesn't know what to do with it. Kageyama definitely wouldn't just tell her when things are wrong. And all of this must have been written on her forehead, because Oikawa responds effortlessly.

"If you don't talk about it directly, then at least have a system, so you can pick up the mood, you know? It's like hand signals in the court.” Oikawa shrugs.

A volleyball analogy!!!

"Thank you Daiousama!" Hinata slams her fists lightly on the table, eyes shining with gratitude.

At the end of the week, they play and win a game as a team (their first and last!), and Hinata hugs Oikawa a little tightly as they part ways, to the surprise of the latter. "Gomen, it's just, it's been an awesome week." Hinata looks up, retreats from Oikawa’s personal space and smiles. "Ganbare in Argentina!”

“You too Chibi-chan. Funny how I’m your superior next-door neighbour again.” Oikawa sighs and waves. “Say hi to Tobio-chan for me!”

By the time Hinata thinks she should ask some questions, Oikawa has hopped onto the coach to the airport.

* * *

Kageyama has been playing the Olympics qualifiers. Hinata watches the replay online between practice and night shift, eyes glued, heart racing. Kageyama did well; it seems her serves and teamplay have both improved since going pro.

She pauses the video at a close-up over her friend. In the frame, Kageyama is clasping her teammate’s hand in a quick high-five, scowling with a stern focus. It’s a familiar expression on a face growing unfamiliar.

She seems so far, worlds away, and so far ahead.

_No_, Hinata mentally shakes herself. Remember? They said — 

_“See you later, Kageyama!”_

_“Yeah, see you later.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this after 371/372, but I'm not writing fast enough before 373 catches up. (laughcry) So that's why I'm uploading before I finish chapter two, even though it's such a short fic!


	2. Tokyo

Water crashing in a distance, splashing.

Kageyama could imagine Hinata running around by the edge of the beach with arms stretched wide, like a seabird circling high and low, gliding through air, nimble and free. Hinata holds out her arms whenever there is wind.

When the sound clip ended, though, what Kageyama felt was shock: they had been texting each other in the past year about Rio and volleyball. She never knew she had wanted to hear Hinata's voice.

### Natsumeku

Time passed differently. There were no mid-terms, finals, or school breaks: training rolled on week after week, and the qualifying tournaments got closer everyday. Okaasan called every Saturday. Kageyama's routine was more than ever defined by volleyball, and she relished the freedom to focus singularly on it.

She lived in the training centre with Komori, the libero who's also a Japan rookie. A slight upgrade from summer camp accommodation, their two-bedroom suite was sparse with all-beige decor, which Komori found very “minimalist chic”. Kageyama picked up a Setter Soul poster for her bedroom. They ate at the canteen and watched replays on the couch at night, exchanging commentary here or there.

And every day, sometime around 6:30 p.m., Hinata would wake up in Rio.

* * *

The clementine sat neatly in her palm and weighed very little. Its soft skin dimpled with a light squeeze, and she was slow to break it open.

"Is that your new stress ball?”

Komori slipped out of her trainers and into her slippers. Kageyama only hated the banter half-heartedly, so she rolled her eyes.

"Pass?"

_No_, she wanted to say. But hoarding a fruit had nothing to do with Kageyama’s predicament, so she petulantly tossed it over to Komori, and reached for her phone.

* * *

_oi boke, give me a call_

_hey, do you wanna call_

This was awkward — all because the boke couldn’t get a hint.

Kageyama turned in her bed. Texting wasn’t this hard in high school.

Plugging in her phone, two taps brought up a closely cropped selfie from Hinata with her new partner, a tanned brunette with wiry brown hair and a toothy smile.

Kageyama left it at "hi".

* * *

In the morning Hinata called her “rude”, but she said, texted, Kageyama’s name too, and Kageyama heard it – “Kageyamaaa” – the last syllable bending upwards, bright and singing.

She smiled before she thought: _oh no, oh no_.

### Kaminari

That morning the Aobajousai groupchat spewed 48 new messages, owing to one picture from Oikawa.

Oikawa, Hinata.

_Hinata_.

_Oikawa_.

What the hell.

Ushijima was not spared of this. Squinting at Kageyama’s phone, Ushijima’s face twisted in a torrent of unidentifiable emotions, and Kageyama felt them without their names and more.

Her first serve of the morning was out of line, and just maybe, it’s forgivable this time.

* * *

Hinata sent her more photos with Oikawa that week. Directly: Kageyama couldn’t pretend she didn’t see them.

(photos) 10:25 a.m.

muhahahaha look we won!!! :DDDD 10:27 a.m.

_Oikawa_ was playing beach volleyball with Hinata.

Oikawa was playing _beach volleyball_ with Hinata.

Oikawa was playing beach volleyball _with_ Hinata.

Thinking about this any longer was going to bust Kageyama’s brains open. On her phone, Hinata was leaning against the scoreboard gleefully, tan and toned all over, wearing a boyish grey tank top with peach-coloured dolphin shorts.

Cute. Hinata looked really cute— 

A brush against her shoulder brought her back to her surroundings. Saori-san was leaning at the doorway with crossed arms, as the changing room cleared for the next session, leaving only one straggler. Kageyama hurried to lock her phone away.

* * *

They say envy reveals what you desire. Kageyama was training for Japan and she wouldn't trade it for anything – anything. But she still wanted.

It’s rude, really, the way someone could be not here and always here, taking up every space. Instead of wanting, she wanted to be angry.

### Tsuyu

it's the qualifiers soon so I'm not going to text much 9:02 a.m.

sorry 9:02 a.m.

oh sure! I'd be watching 11:52 a.m.

um, this sounds stupid, but you think I’m stupid anyway😒 11:53 a.m.

we should have a sign! like hand signals 11:54 a.m.

so I know how it's going!! 11:54 a.m.

and, you know 11:55 a.m.

huh what 12:05 p.m.

I'll just text you if there's sth I have to say 12:08 p.m.

noo you just go to bed with a stinky face like😡 2:05 p.m.

just pick something! 2:10 p.m.

what would it even mean 7:05 p.m.

fine it's 🍊 7:06 p.m.

also early happy birthday Hinata boke 7:10 p.m.

to another year of getting taller and better at volleyball 7:11 p.m.

😤 you know I stopped growing years ago!!! 00:11 a.m.

* * *

From silence, relief; from relief, guilt.

* * *

They had a team psychologist with whom they meet monthly. Kageyama was told her job is to help them prepare mentally and optimise their performance. Kageyama almost told her about Hinata. She decided against it, for many reasons, but felt no less conflicted afterwards. Who to ask, and what to say? She was bad at keeping in touch. She knew it would be like this when she graduated, that outside of the court, her problems would be hers alone, mostly — 

Well, she might have told Hinata, if it's not about Hinata in the first place.

Like a rock niggling in her shoe, she bore with the pricks of feeling.

* * *

"Look at that."

Saori-san let out a whistle at Ushijima's spike, zooming half an inch past Komori's spidery reach in a 2-on-2.

Kageyama looked from the sideline. Everyone was getting ready; she must be ready too.

* * *

Komori said she's making dinner and asked Kageyama to stick around, so she did, watching replays on her own. In the middle of the first half of China vs Korea, Komori slid in, light-footed, and plopped down a hot plate in front of Kageyama.

It's tonkatsu with a side of piping hot curry. Kagayama almost couldn't believe it.

"We're, not supposed to have this."

"I won't tell if you won't.” Komori raised her eyebrows conspiratorially, pleased by her own cooking.

It was delicious. Kageyama took a forkful and another and another and kept mum.

### Hizakari

Heaps of limbs pile onto Kageyama like a landslide. Buried under, she comes up for air, and tears into her lung with a loud, wordless cry. Cheers from the crowds reverberate in the stadium. The Olympics: they're going to the Olympics.

* * *

Coach treated the team yakiniku, an extremely rare exception to their regimented diet, and cancelled curfew for one night only.

"Where are you goinggg!"

"Bed, like I said."

"But you have to go to bed eveeeeennntually!"

It's somewhat amusing to watch Komori flailing her long arms around. Kageyama heads for her bedroom.

"I want to sleep now. Have fun."

"Noooo the second round's the first round! Kageyamaaaa!" Behind her, Komori's voice bends to an uncharacteristic whine, reaching. Kageyama shivers; she used to be called so childishly and affectionately every practice.

_Kageyama!_

_Kageyama!_

Beside the net, knowing always there's a glimpse of fiery orange just over her shoulder— 

Damnit.

It's her dream to play on the Olympic stage; she couldn't get there any faster. But she keeps thinking— 

"It's the OLYMMMMPICSSS!" Komori has only gotten louder. Kageyama is poised to muffle the source of nuisance with a not-so-gentle hand, when she hears two knocks at their door. It can't be coach...

It's Ushijima, cool and collected.

"Sorry, did you hear the shouting from down the hallway..."

"No, she texted me for backup." Ushijima pauses. "To persuade you, it seems."

Ushijima shows Kageyama her phone, which is just a text from Komori blasting in the group chat: "BACKUP". The girl has fallen onto the couch sideways now.

"No, thanks." Kageyama shakes her head, suddenly glad to have a regular conversation, and watches Ushijima pour a glass of water at the kitchenette. Ushijima's presence is instantly calming, and Komori's noises simmer down to slurring murmurs with Ushijima helping her to her feet. ("Omi-chan only said good things about you... Knew you're solid...")

Before they leave, Ushijima turns.

"Top floor common room, if you want to join." Ushijima points upward. "It's a happy day. You should treat yourself." 

* * *

(sound clip, 0:05) 11:58 p.m.

OMG 12:11 p.m.

(sound clip, 0:13) 12:12 p.m.

(sound clip, 0:03) 12:14 p.m.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I thought it would because of life things - and it's stretching to a three-parter because there gotta be gay longing before the reunion! (sunglasses)
> 
> Notes on section titles:  
Natsumeku: beginning of summer  
Kaminari: thunder  
Tsuyu: plum rain  
Hizakari: high noon


	3. Bridge

### Julho

Shouyou's all over the place this morning. Adria commiserates: veranico is brutal, the no-jump rule a pain, and the Reyes are killing it with ball placement. But no matter— the bumblebee of a girl falls and rises to her feet every time, so when she digs Gabi's floater from the front court with a flying receive, sending it out of bounds and herself crashing into the sand, Adria turns to the net.

Then, she feels the lack of movement beside her, like a stone skittering across the water before it plops, delayed. 

"Shouy—"

"I'm alright!"

After a muffled shout, Shouyou pushes herself off the floor and climbs to standing. When her face jolts out of the curved shadow of her visor, eyes fresh, she flails at the attention closed in. 

"Sorry!"

They carry on, but the image of the fallen girl clings onto Adria, perhaps from the guilt of being presumptuous, or a stubbornness borne of instinct. She didn't think it was physical exhaustion: Shouyou has better stamina than that. 

“Oh, I..." Shouyou's gaze flits when Adria asks later. 

"Tripped over myself. But don’t worry about it.”

She perks up and looks ahead, far and away. And she says, as if an afterthought.

“The Olympics are almost here— aren't you getting excited?"

### Tanabata

Assembled from washi paper flowers, ornamental balls in loud patterns top the tubes of long paper streamers decorating Asakura in summer: fuchsia, neon green, blinding yellow and violet-blue. Beneath crisscrossed power lines and a string of pink lanterns never-ending, these fukinagashis float like monster jellyfishes in the purplish air, lining both sides of the street. Komori forgot how delightful they are, and she's giddy again.

Ushiwaka has wandered off with Tendou-san, who works in the city now. Komori dives in with Kageyama, and soon they find a divide-and-conquer play, sharing spoils from adjacent food stalls. Taking advantage of another free pass, they demolish two dozens of yakitori, and Komori yelps at the bigger-than-your-face grilled squid covering Kageyama's grin. It's tender, smoky, perfect, and they devour it in no time.

Next, takoyaki acquired, Komori finds her comrade beside a bamboo tree with new company. They're wearing pretty yukatas, so Komori almost doesn’t recognise Nekoma’s setter and captain from high school days. The smaller spots Komori first.

"Ah, don’t let me interrupt!"

“It's nothing, we're just talking about..." 

Her voice trailing, Kuroo-san tips her head to Kageyama with quizzing eyebrows. Kageyama holds the look for a beat, before she turns. 

"Rio," she says, with the A-game poker face Japan is counting on. 

"It's our night off! No stressing about Rio tonight." 

Whatever _else_ there was, Komori moves along. She gives Nekoma the extra box. Munching on chopped octopus, Kuroo-san begins to share her grad school woes, while Kenma-san is... watching Kageyama, who hasn't touched the food.

"Kageyama?" Komori nudges, and belatedly offers, "You don't like takoyaki?"

At that, the girl seems to come to herself.

“I do like it," she says, matter-of-fact, and picks at the flour balls earnestly. 

Afterwards, Nekoma wish them luck in August. Side by side, Komori and Kageyama watch the clacking footsteps disappear. It's been a fun night, and Komori hopes she's only worrying too much.

"Are you feeling okay?”

Kageyama’s profile is cut up in shadows strange and small, cast by rivulets of streetlight dripping through the tangle of fine leaves, tanzakus and origami overhead, bent with the weight of wishes. In the dark Komori makes out a frown, which seems to ease away with a long exhale.

“Yeah. I was remembering,” Kageyama dips her head to the now-empty container, “we were competing over who could finish three boxes first, last time at tanabata.”

_Oh_, Komori's brain ticks. She has seen this expression on Kageyama before, something like it, the other night: distracted, a little wistful, and mellow, like the shoji window at obaasan's, drawn close yet brimming with light from the winter sun. A smile escapes barely, and Kageyama’s mouth twitches to shut it out in a blink. Theory of the flatmate-senpai: Kageyama is not sick, Kageyama is _love_sick.

"That's an interesting date idea,” Komori quips.

“It wasn't— wasn’t a date.” Kageyama splutters, and recovers commendably. "Everyone went, third years on the volleyball team."

"A _group_ date?"

Komori might be too gleeful about it. Kageyama gapes, confusion and horror dawning in her eyes. For the fortune of Japan Komori screeches, trying to halt an implosion. "I'm _kidding_!"

She changes tack with a complaint about the lack of festival-going at Itachiyama, and whisks Kageyama away for kakigori before the pick-up. At the end of Kappabashi-dori, the Skytree towers above East Tokyo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE MID-WEEK UPDATE?! You bet. -finger guns-
> 
> Seriously though, readers, I'm sorry for the lack of a reliable update schedule. The story's running away from me and I really wanted — nay, needed — to get this bridge chapter out to you first. It's short, different, and difficult to write, to be honest. I would be so happy to know your reactions if you'd like to share! (Meanwhile, I'm working hard on the next chapter I promise!!)


	4. Crossing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE GO. (I'm so nervous??? u_______u this is it. Please see endnotes!)

[JFK-GIG dep 2155 arr 0935+1 JL7208] 9:29 p.m.

flying in tomorrow 9:29 p.m.

welcome to Rio!!!!!! 7:35 a.m.

### Agosto

The beach volleyball stadium on the Copa holds twelve thousand people. The restaurant is opening for longer hours to catch more business, which means swing shifts for Hinata. She stays afloat, kicking her legs from table to table, and there are just enough hours off work for beach, indoor, at least two proper meals and sleep. 

But in between, underneath, a thought thrums like a heartbeat. Japan is playing every other day in Pool A before the knock-out. At a schedule fixed to women's volleyball, her mind drifts over the humps of Corcovado, to the north side of town.

_A whistle piercing the air, friction from the ball spinning. Stop. Breathe in—_

* * *

The restaurant has become a watering hole for Japan fans, which is lucky for Hinata. It is easier to put on a brave face and hold onto the tray this way. Patrons wail over a straight-set loss to Brazil; she wipes off spilled sake when they're gone.

“Maybe you should be a ballerina, since your eyes are always fixed on one point when you turn." Behind her, Manager-kun remarks airily from the cashier. 

Hinata's stomach lurches; her apology is waived before it forms.

"Just pay attention to the customers, and don't spill anything."

“Hai,” she retreats. 

Against the backroom lockers she presses, her hands flipped over. The metal is cool, pleasant, and a mild sting shoots across her handspan through the wrists. The sharpness steeps for a few seconds.

_Looking is all I could do._

She shakes it out.

“Hinata, were you finally dumped?”

“Hah?” 

Wait, _finally?_

“You stopped texting and started moping a while ago," Leti explains, like it's obvious, "and you look like a wet puppy." 

“_No_," she blurts and, surprised by the force of her denial, gulps. "Japan lost."

“That crazy for volleyball, huh.” Leti’s eyes twinkle. “Swap me for Friday night? I could use more tips.”

(When Hinata clenches her fists in the blanket through the see-sawing match against Russia, she's glad Leti offered.)

* * *

"00:35," Hinata squints with one eye, and flips her phone over one last time.

There is a silence in tandem, elsewhere in this timezone, this city. She thinks of spiking with her eyes closed, the split-second gap between force and impact, and breathes out.

* * *

Hinata watches Japan snatch the last ticket to quarterfinals with a combination of volleyball-trained peripheral vision, ballet-style head-whipping (whatever Manager-kun calls it) and plain staring. At the set point of the second set, the entire restaurant is staring too, dinner and companion forgotten.

A jump serve slices through the court, cutting just within the line, unstoppable.

“È ace! Fantástico! Ele só tem 19 anos! Tobio Kageyama!”

_Yosh!_ she shouts, right arm curling into a punch, but she's drowned out by the full house erupted in cheer. On camera, the Japan team huddles around the setter.

_Squished next to a tall frame, smothered by heat and sweat and adrenaline; up close, dark eyes ignited, a glint of ambition at the corner of her mouth—_

Hinata squeezes.

* * *

Like bike chains whirling around the sprockets, pulling and clinking uphill endlessly, night after day after night the message plays:

"Hinata, we’re going to the Olympics, s— so hurry up already boke!"

* * *

ESTADOS UNIDOS BATERAM O JAPAO E VAO A SEMI PELA 4a OLIMPIADA SEGUIDA

_em Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, August 16, 2016_

* * *

Kageyama 4:32 p.m.

🍊? 4:34 p.m.

I'll be at Ipanema posto 10 before sunset 4:35 p.m.

if you want to come 4:35 p.m.

or meet later, anytime 4:37 p.m.

just let me know 4:58 p.m.

* * *

Kageyama finds Hinata on the beach, the far side of the net. The courts are lined in a long column by the pavement. She keeps going until she spots it: tangerine bangs.

It's strange, watching Hinata play. Something's out of place, like the angle is all wrong, an out-of-body experience. It hits her again, in the one-and-a-half-court distance: Hinata has gone far and away, to train with wind and sand and Brazilians. This is where Hinata lives. She is here. 

On the beach (I-pa-ne-ma), the girl who must be Hinata hops for a kill. 

Block abuse, nice.

She high-fives her partner and, swivelling—

breaks into a wide-open smile, so, so happy.

_Hey._

Hinata waves like she's wiping a tall shelf. Kageyama lifts her hand just enough and lets it drop: if she moves she would lose her balance.

_Swoosh—_

(At her ankles the water pulls. The sands hurry, scooped away from under her soles, tilting—)

She lands a side step off the concrete. 

In a minute, when the players disperse, she steers herself to go across steadily and not charge like an idiot. Closer and closer is Hinata's grin, bouncing up and down by court side.

"Did you see that?"

From half a court away, Hinata tosses the ball into Kageyama's hands, braced in front of her chest. It's softer, and fit slightly bigger between her fingers. She takes it in, the feel of it familiar and new.

When Kageyama looks again, Hinata has stepped right in front of her, beaming, head tilted expectantly. 

She looks as she does in her photos, except she is glowing, really glowing, basked in a warm and saturated hue, marigold. Struck by the ray her left eye turns the colour of honey syrup, and just below it: freckles, a pinch sprinkled high on her cheek as she smiles, a small curve taut with something like hope—

“The last few rallies,” Kageyama pushes the ball back.

“Tsk."

(A nose scrunch, and she is nearly wrong-footed again.) 

Just so, Hinata throws a glance behind. “I wanted to bring you here to play, but they just told me they're leaving early.”

“Did you think you could beat me.” 

“It's more to see if you would be outdone by Daiousama.” Hinata smirks, and rests the ball on her hip easily.

Oikawa-san. Kageyama knows the fighting words, but in a failure of reflex, stuck between some frazzled wiring and rattled parts of her, unwound in the long afternoon, they don't come. 

She huffs, instead. People are swarming the beach.

“Hey,” a small tug at her sleeve beckons, “let's head down?”

Weaving past tanned bodies and lounge chairs, Hinata finds a spot for her ugly rainbow tie-dye quilt, and they settle down. Hovering at the foot of the twin-peaked mountain, the sun casts a column of light on the sea. In that trail everything is burnt golden, glistening, too bright to look at; the outline of Hinata's hair blurs.

A movement shakes Kageyama from her daze, and Hinata is looking at her. 

"You're gonna miss the sunset."

"I won't, there's time." Hinata disagrees, but she does look in front instead. She hangs her elbows on her kneecaps, limbs loose. 

Kageyama can only see a shadowed left cheek; the sand budges under her heels.

“Now you're 3-D again,” Hinata muses. 

“I’m always 3-D, boke.”

”I mean you're _here_," Hinata turns again, shoulders sloping towards her. It’s petulant, but there's gladness too, and the moment Kageyama senses a silver of something more, it slips away with Hinata's line of sight, flung far into the sea.

In the sea there are swimmers, tiny dots bobbing up and down. The tide rolls out from the sand bed in a hush, pale blue and gentle, leaving behind a path of mirrors. Amidst footsteps streaming up and down, children drop to touch, and the tide folds, falling into foam, flattens — they stomp and throw themselves in, making a splash.

“I was at Leme," Hinata's eyes drift back and forth, her body rocking, "which is quieter, but you can see the sunset better here. And everyone knows Ipanema! Except you, probably. Have you even been to a beach?”

“I have. You live in the mountains, you probably haven't until you got here."

“Well, now I live by the sea!" Hinata announces with pride, as if she won, and shifts sideways to face Kageyama, her words flowing quicker. "I can show you the other beaches. And other places around Rio. Um, if you want to.”

Kageyama has a week before the closing ceremony, so she is about to say that, but the fact splinters: a week later Kageyama goes back, and Hinata stays. She knew this, yet it surprises her, still, with a small hole in her side, unnoticeable until saltwater trickles in, building a pressure.

“You probably have cool Olympian things to do.” The damp in her voice doesn't sound like jealousy.

“No, I, maybe. There is time in between.” Kageyama adds, “but your sense of directions are terrible.”

“I've gotten a lot better!” 

Easily provoked as ever, Hinata squawks, a stupid, familiar sound. She glares like an angry chicken, even her shoulders are combative, and it's _stupid._ A laugh bubbles from Kageyama. Hinata is down to fight, all ruddy cheeks and aggressive pouting, and it makes her chest lighten and tighten in clashing motions.

To Kageyama's chuckle, Hinata's expression unruffles. Her eyes crinkle.

_Swash—_

(She has watched the waves from the way they've come. It doesn't help at all.)

Sudden under her left thumb, Kageyama’s pulse jumps, and she wrenches her eyes away. Hinata's best at reading, or guessing, what's on her mind, and she will claw at it until she rips it open.

"Boke." "Kage— huh?"

"Pass me your backpack, I want to lie down."

"_You're_ gonna miss the sunset."

Hinata kicks Kageyama off the quilt, so they can rotate it. The sand is hard and lumpy, solid. On her back, neither floating nor sinking, her ribcage rises and falls with the sea.

It's cloudless.

There is something comforting yet thrilling, lying at the mouth of the ocean, safe on the edge of dry land where the water dances, without being swallowed up whole. This is the closest she can get, to lose the things she's held, all of it — words half-formed and brittle, _I_, hardened emotions like debris in a shipwreck, _I was hiding_, battered by the flood: old grief, new pain, the last whistle, _you're rubbing your left ankle, Achilles' tendon_, and tenderness, a fresh bruise, _I could_ —

She crooks her neck. Hinata is up "keeping watch", her hip barely an inch from Kageyama's left flank.

"Look."

The sun almost sits on the horizon, its orange tones fusing with the expanse of blue. Kageyama comes up carefully, and they watch it dip below, setting the sky on fire.

“Kageyama.”

Neither moves.

“I watched.”

Kageyama isn’t sure what there is to say, as she's sure Hinata doesn't know either. They've never been good at this part, post-game talk, leaving the court. Well, Hinata wasn’t playing. 

She hums. Over her shoulder, Hinata starts.

"You know, Japan is going to win in 2020, because—"

A burst of motion startles Kageyama. Hinata has risen, looming behind her in full height.

"I'll be there. I," she holds her gaze, and says, finally, "will."

Kageyama stares back at the eyes of a tiger.

She has stood at the shoreline, watching, felt the ground sink under her weight. She has fought to stay upright, but what she wants is to give in, to throw her hands, overcome, forget description, let the waves swell and fill the echoes of her chest, _I want, I want,_ despite the necessity of where they are, and enormity of the world, twelve hours, two oceans, and hear:

_I’ll be there._

Calling, calling—

(She closes her eyes.)

_Just you wait, Kageyama!_

"Boke."

Kageyama surges to reach for Hinata, arms outstretched. It's early yet.

"Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Endnote (last update 16 Jun 2020): 
> 
> * I started and planned the end before the atomic bomb that is Chapter 387, and it punched me in the face. Kagehina nation how are we doing...
> 
> * Chapter 2 opening inspired by this [ art by littleskirb](https://littleskrib.tumblr.com/post/188012006459/your-hands-kept-supporting-me-while-i-let-loose). Also shout out to miyagi-firstsnow, who graciously tolerated my rants. I hope you like the renewal of their volleyball engagement vowsヽ(・∀・)ﾉ
> 
> * This is the first time I wrote and posted chapters without having them all planned out. It's not the tidiest, but I’m fond of it, and I hope you are too.
> 
> * Unbeta'ed. Kudos are love and comments give me life!!! It would make me so, so happy to hear what you think about this story, which part of it you like best, and how it makes you feel, etc. And regardless, thank you for reading. x
> 
> <https://versions91.tumblr.com> / @versions91 on Twitter, come yell at me about Haikyuu things :D  



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